


Big Bad Wolf (Reformed)

by craftingkatie



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gladiators, fight rings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:48:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3119042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craftingkatie/pseuds/craftingkatie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A work inspired early in the series.</p>
<p>Monroe volunteers to help Nick with a case and winds up captured by a Lowen run fight ring. Forced to fight and win to survive, he is comforted by his prize: a woman named Gigi, a wesen of unknown origin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Betthäschen

This was the last time he let a Grimm talk him into risky situations. It may well be the last time he ever did anything. Monroe took three deep breaths, trying to calm the bloodlust within him. He had felt the bones snap in the gladiator ring, enjoyed the feeling of the blood and lifeforce leaving his opponent. Where had Nick been with the timely rescue before he had to break his vows?

Monroe cradles his head in his hands, his knees drawn up. The smaller he is, the less he feels the draw of the meat in the far corner of his cell. His breath comes out in growls, his head shaking a refusal to give in even as his heart sang for the fight. 

He is drawn so far inward that he does not even look up when the door to his cage is flung open and something is shoved inside. Monroe looks up, wondering what will be required of him now; what more could they possibly want? 

There, in the middle of his cage crouches a woman with long blond hair. Sensing his attention, the Lowen addresses him. “Your prize for winning. You’ve got an hour before the next fight; take your pleasure while you can.” The laughs of the guards outside the cage crawl across his skin.

“Well, go on then.” the Lowen snarls from outside his cage. The woman looks back at the Lowen, and then resigned crawled towards Monroe. In shock, he lets his knees relax, straightening out. She is quick to straddle his legs, raising her hands to caress his face. His every nerve stands on end, an urging from somewhere deep inside to take what was his claims his senses. He closes his eyes and grits his teeth. They will not tatter every tame shred of his being. They can not... 

She unbuttons his shirt and nips at his collarbone before toying with his earlobe. “Shhhh...” she whispers across his ear. “You won’t forget yourself. They’ll lose interest soon, I promise. Take a deep breath and center yourself, friend.”

“Who are you?” Monroe rears back to look the woman in the eyes. She just wraps a hand around his head, pulling him in to nuzzle at her neck. 

“You must act more passionate or they will prod it out of you for sport.” She leans her head back and moans in a way that shakes him to the core. He raises his knees, cradling her to his body, his arms wrapping around her small frame. “That’s the spirit, dear.” She rises up against him, taller, now able to observe the guards. Their positions now uncomfortably remind him that the woman he holds is nude, and covered in scrapes and bruises that spoke to her purpose here at the gladiator fights. 

“What manner of wesen are you?” he whispers into her breast. His nose brushes her stomach, his beard tickling the sensitive skin there.

“I-I don’t know. They say I am Betthäschen, but they say that while laughing and making lewd jokes. They call me Gigi. My mother was one like me; we serve the gladiators.” Gigi answers, glad to see the guards had moved on to antagonize another warrior. “You regret your actions in the ring, I know, but you mustn’t. You did what you had to do to survive.” Monroe shook his head. “No arguing with me, you must believe. You were more merciful than any fighter I’ve seen. You’ve a good heart, friend.”

“Eddie. My name is Eddie.” He looks up at her and she rewards him with a smile. She shifts to her wesen form for just a second, showing fur and a satisfied feline smile, then the simple woman with long blond hair is back. Her eyes are twinkling green, even in the dark of the warehouse they shine.

“Eddie, that’s a nice name for the Big Bad Wolf.” she is still smiling, something so at odds with their surroundings, he stared for a minute too long.

“Reformed. I’m reformed.” He slips, and nips at her collarbone, the proximity driving his senses wild. He hums into her neck, a tuneless song to forget his surroundings. Her hair falls to curtain his head, blocking out the view and noises around them. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head and simply held him as he ignored their situation. They are pressed together when the cage around them sizzles with electricity, shocking them both.

“Wakey, wakey!” the guard taunts. “We want some action.” Then he reaches a hand through the bars to toy with Gigi’s hair and narrowly misses Monroe’s snarled bite. The bars electrify again, and Gigi cries out.

Eddie curls around her, as if the more he covers her the less she will be injured. She cries into his shoulder and he breathes deeply into her neck. They are pressed together like this when the sirens and cops burst into the warehouse. Gigi finds that in the blink of an eye, she has been thrown to the ground. She is laying on the floor of the cage, Monroe stretched over her. He is blutbad; he is focused on the danger and potential threat. He has one arm curled around her back, cradling her shoulder and head from impact. She lays a hand on his cheek as he shifts back and comforts him again. “Shhh, Eddie. We have been saved.” She kisses him once, twice, chaste celebrations of the authorities interference.

He registers Nick crouching at the cage, opening the gate. “I need a blanket, or a jacket.” he tells the detective, still covering Gigi, but now he protects her from public nudity and not from an unknown threat. It’s Monroe’s own jacket Nick finds flung on a chair near the cages. He throws it in and Monroe helps Gigi slip it on. It’s not long enough to cover everything, but it does enough to get them out of the cage.

“I’m sorry, Monroe. You’re going to have to talk to the detectives and give a statement. I told them you were working with me and got caught. I’m going to take as much of the hit for this as I can. Stick as close to the truth as you can.” Nick pauses. “Does she need medical help?” Gigi has ducked out from the cage and stands on shaky feet. Monroe scoops her up into his arms.

“Lead the way to the medics.” he orders, without his usual stream of manic information. Nick quickly falls to and escorts them out to the waiting ambulances. Monroe sets her down and oversees as EMS checks her over, bandaging a few cuts and tactfully asking if they need to gather evidence for rape. She, equally tactful, turns them down. It has been a week since she was last used by a warrior and he was three days dead. They wrap her in a blanket and a female officer is sent to find her some clothes. Nick brings her a cup of coffee and assigns an officer to watch her before guiding Monroe over to give his statement. 

Both Monroe and the detective keep an eye on her from their post, and she is glad to have an anchor. The drama of the men being arrested, the curses being thrown back and forth, the blood being cleaned off of the caged warriors turns her stomach. The officer sees her go green and snatches a bucket right before she empties the contents of her stomach. She thanks the man and asks if she might lay down in the back of the ambulance. He steps to guard the back as she stretches out on the floor, covered by the blanket.

Her thoughts swim. She has grown up in this hidden life; what will come of her now? She is distracted momentarily by the female officer returning with clothing. The back of the ambulance is shut to afford her some privacy as she slips into the fresh underwear and the pair of sweats. It is comforting to have something clean and warm to wear. There are raised voices at the door and the back is thrown open to reveal the officers trying to restrain Monroe.

“Relax, man. She’s okay.” Nick lays a hand on his shoulder and the officers release their hold on the struggling man. Gigi steps down and walks to Monroe. She is more comforted by his presence and he seems to take the same comfort from hers.

“Can we go home now or do you still need us here? You know where to find me.” Monroe almost pleads. Gigi looks up at him. She had not considered where she would be staying that night; apparently Monroe had thought more carefully about the immediate future. 

Nick waved them away with a promise to call later. “Your car’s at the top of the hill.” Monroe briefly marveled at the bureaucratic magic that would have gotten his car to this place, but decided not to question it. He merely wrapped an arm around Gigi and led her up towards the yellow beetle. 

“I’m going home with you, then?” Gigi asked carefully as they made their way to the car.  
“Oh, I just assumed... That is, if you want me to drop you off somewhere that’s fine. I only thought it’d be better for you to have a secure place to sleep tonight. I don’t know how much sleep I’ll be getting; maybe I’ll get in some work. In any case, my house is well known to be comforting.” He rattled on as he unlocked the passenger door and held it open for her.

“Thank you, that does sound nice.” Gigi smiled.


	2. Lullabies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This was inspired very early in the series-- probably within the first two episodes-- and will continue in a sort of AU fashion. That is, as much as I adore Rosalee, she will not feature in this story.

It was a short drive through town. Gigi watched the dark trees turn into dark buildings and then into houses with porch lights illuminating their surroundings. When the Lowen had set up the fight ring, she had been smuggled in the back of a delivery truck. She had not seen the city- or really any city since before her mother had passed. 

Warmth surrounded her, and she swore she could feel it coming from the houses surrounding them. As if these friendly streets were reaching out to enfold her in welcome. Maybe, instead, it was her companion beside her who was enfolding her in warmth. Monroe gave off heat like a stove. 

When they pulled into the driveway of a quaint house, the warmth gave way to calm. She followed him to the doorway and briefly admired the stained glass, before it was opened and she was ushered inside. It felt vaguely story book, with an assortment of clocks on the walls to greet any visitor. 

“What are the tail bits called?” she asked, mesmerized by one just inside the door. It looked like a tiny house, the tail ticking back and forth, back and forth.

“Pendulum; and that one is perfectly balanced. Almost too perfectly balanced if you ask me, but that’s neither here nor there.” Monroe stopped beside her. “I make them; repair them even. It’s a fiddly job but someone has to do it.”

“Eddie, the clockmaker.” Gigi smiled. “And your friend, the cop, does he also make clocks?”

“Uh, no.” Monroe stuttered. The image of Nick helping him piece together a Martyniuk or Walsh design, the absurdity of the idea, had him releasing a deep laugh that made Gigi jump and grin in return.

“Is he Wesen as well, your friend? He seemed well versed. Like the elder volk in the Lowen clan; never shaken by anything he saw.” Gigi ran a finger gently down the side of the little house.

“Nick? Nick is a Grimm,” He seemed to brace himself for some kind of explosive response but Gigi just stared. She could feel that he was expecting something more from her. Frustration had her finally shrugging her shoulders, a wave of fine fur filling her face. “Grimm? The boogey man from every scary story parents tell their young?” Again, she had nothing to go on.  
“I was raised by the gladiators, Eddie. Never have I heard the term Grimm. If he is a boogey man then why is he your friend?” Gigi questioned. Only her eyes stayed woged, feline slits appraising Monroe as he considered her question.

Monroe echoed her shrug. “Stories aren’t always true.” He led her down the hall, pointing out the living room, the kitchen, and restroom, before coming to the guest room. The desk had a stack of clock bits and bobs, but the bed was made and inviting. “Sorry about the mess.” He waved a hand at the desk. “I can get you a towel and a few things to wear.”

“Sounds perfect. I would love a shower.” Gigi beamed. A bed all to herself and a chance to be clean! Those happened few and far between when someone else controlled your every moment. She gratefully accepted the towel and bundle of clothing, as well as the privacy as he retreated to the far end of the house. Just a few frustrated minutes of fiddling with the nozzles and then she was standing beneath the warm spray. She scrubbed away what seemed like years of grime and was unashamed when the tears started. In her woged form, she sat under the spray, crying for her mother and the life she had lived. She was finally free.

~~~

Gigi wrapped herself in the borrowed clothes and bundled her hair into the towel. She opened the bathroom door to find Monroe passing by with a tray of food. 

“Didn’t know if you would want a full meal, so I just put a few things together.” She saw a cup of tea, cheese, crackers, cookies, a sandwich, and a few grapes.

“It looks perfect! Did you eat?” Monroe shook his head.

“To riled up to eat right now, but I’ll take this to your room for you.” She followed behind him and watched as he shoved enough supplies over to fit the tray on the crowded desk. “Can you think of anything else you may need tonight?” Gigi examined the room and shook her head. “Well, good night then. Sleep well.” Monroe walked past her to the door and shut it behind him. She tensed up as the door clicked shut but relaxed after a few minutes when the clicking of a lock didn’t follow. Freedom meant no locked doors and an assortment of food. 

Gigi downed the tea and nibbled at the food before giving up and retiring to the bed. It was like laying on a cloud; one with gingham pillows and three blankets to choose from underneath the homespun quilt. She was not used to such luxury in a bed and found it too damn fluffy. With a guilty look towards the door, as if Monroe could hear her plan, she pulled the blankets onto the floor and curled up amongst the pile. 

Freedom felt a bit stifling. She could hear Monroe moving about, even as he tried his best to be quiet. Gigi closed her eyes and willed herself into dreamland, but there was no turning off her brain. It buzzed with Monroe shaped static as the man himself paced his living room. She threw an arm over her eyes in a futile effort to turn her brain off, but had to give in to the fact she would not find sleep while he was so active. 

The clock in the hall told her it was 4 in the morning. After such a long ordeal, any sane beings would be in bed asleep by now. Monroe sat at the couch, an assortment of books in front of him on the coffee table. He twitched a bit as she approached but only asked, “Still up?”

“Can’t sleep.” She answered, sitting beside him with a yawn.

“Yawn says you’re tired.” He shut the book in front of him and removed the reading glasses perched on his nose. She growled a bit.

“Brain says you’re wired and it’s keeping me on edge.” Her frustration had fur flowing around her face and down to her hands. 

Monroe held up his hands in placation. “My apologies. Wired is a good description. My routine is all shaken up and I can’t find my calm. I didn’t realize I was being so loud, though.”

“You weren’t loud, truly.” Gigi protested but Monroe just shook his head.

“Can I make it up to you?” he grinned.

“Yes?” her answer was more question and concern. He grinned wider and stood abruptly, causing her to cringe back.

“A lullaby! That’s the ticket. A fresh cup of tea and a calming lullaby.” He walked into the kitchen where she could hear him banging things around, presumably making tea. Gigi listened to the comforting racket before a question struck her.

“You sing?” she called out. He didn’t look like a singer, but what did she know?

“No, definitely not.” He came out carrying two mugs, steam rising out. “I play the cello.” He pointed with a mug towards the instrument propped in a corner before handing her the mug. She had completely missed the instrument upon entering the room. “Get comfortable; my lullabies are potent.” She grinned at his confidence and settled back into the cushions of the couch. There was no way a simple song could put her to sleep. 

Gigi sipped at her tea and watched as he set up the instrument, sitting in a hard backed chair and tightening his bow. He sipped at his own tea before setting it aside. A few scattered notes rang out into the room as he warmed up. Not quite a scale as she recognized it, but clearly a sequence of some sort.

Monroe took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and threw himself into a song. The melody was haunting, slow and steady, and immediately wrapped Gigi up. His body relaxed into the tune, swaying almost as the strings rang out. Gigi yawned and set her tea down. He really was quite good. The song built and retreated, taking her stress with it. Monroe’s breathing reflected the pace of the song and her’s synced with his. She fought her heavy eyelids, fascinated by watching someone play with such passion, but it was a losing fight.

The blutbad found his peace halfway through the suite before he opened his eyes. His house guest had curled up on the couch, eyes closed and breathing rhythmic. He finished the song and rolled into another, content to continue playing. It seemed the lullaby had been exactly what Gigi needed to find sleep and exactly what he needed to find his calm after his latest hell. 

After an hour of playing, he put aside his instrument and began to clean up quietly. Monroe knew the detective would be paying a visit in a few hours and he was interested to know if the Grimm’s books would have any clues as to Gigi’s wesen ancestry. The mystery was enough to keep him quietly reading as Gigi slept.

**Author's Note:**

> Betthäschen translates as sex kitten- a derogative name the Lowen apply to Gigi because of the lifestyle they have forced her into.


End file.
